


REBUILDING

by punkdentist



Series: heading towards something undefinable (good luck) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Kara-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkdentist/pseuds/punkdentist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>grant shoots kara in the stomach once before he sees who she is (before she sees who he is) things go a little better or a lot worse depending on the day and kara survives</p>
<p>
  <i>au picking up after the last ep. of season 2</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	REBUILDING

**Author's Note:**

> i made some weird choices with formatting and capitalising in this fic
> 
> not a ward-positive fic (more like neutral-ish)

it hurts so fucking much. her left side burns, everywhere else has gone numb. it feels like a CRATER, like she could slip in her hand and PULL out her organs. (1 shot in the stomach - no exit wound) GRANT hovers above her, big worried eyes, she wants to reach out, reassure him. she staggers, fresh PAIN soars through her nerves, fuuuuuck - she needs to ...? can't focus, BLACK creeps on the edge of her vision. insides are spilling out, that can't be good, and it hurts like hell. NO, she refuses, it doesn't end here, it can't. her face is wet from ... tears or sweat or something? (SHE DOESN'T KNOW) she needs to, she has to, it's important. SHE CAN'T REMEMBER. she is slipping, doesn't know what's worse, the pain or ... or what? it's so FAR AWAY. GRANT punches her, why, why, why? it hurts more than ever more than before more more more. no, it wasn't a fist, it was? he keeps pressure on her wound with something, she can't see, yes, that makes sense, she thinks. the world darkens, she needs to say SOMETHING, animalistic noises and pain. SHE IS GONE.

\----

a fan is whirring away in its corner. GRANT sleeps on the couch, but he isn't here right now ("going out" he had said). she has a bed, more like a prison, with sheets that were clean in the beginning, but soaked in sweat now. she is kara again, and it is GLORIOUS. it hurts.

getting shot isn't the end of the world, but this safehouse might as well be. 1 room + a bathroom and nothing to look at, not even a tv. at least they are in america, so the radio talks english. she turns up the volume, and the sound bombards her. drowns out everything else, and she can't hear GRANT coming back, but she sees him. he is out a lot, running away from his guilt in a literal sense, he smells of sweat and takes cold showers.

she has no qualms about pissing in front of him. he helps her up since she can't stand on her own. walking hurts, standing hurts, sitting on the fucking toilet hurts, she would like to say that she is used to it, but that would be a dirty lie. the pee flows out her with force, splashes against the toilet water. GRANT stares at the wall, the yellow-ish squares once white in their glory days.

one day GRANT brings back a CACTUS, kara almost cries, almost laughs. she has this intense desire to grab it and squeeze. it's a fantasy that can last for hours before restarting, the plant's needles puncturing her skin, tiny droplets of blood everywhere. she pinches herself, looks out the window. the shades are half-drawn, and the city outside is dark, falling asleep. she inspects the houses, counts windows and stuffs them in categories depending on size, whether there is light inside or not. GRANT is gone again.

something about getting shot put things into a perspective she isn't ready to face. she will be. the minute she can walk, she starts packing, bends down despite her body protesting. she carefully stuffs her backpack. sometimes she just pace, walk from corner to corner. she has a plan. it isn't good, but pretty much everything beats staying here, the air is bad. the walls are sticky and yellow from cigarette smoke. her wound throbs and aches, but the pain is fading, leaving room for all kinds of other things.

GRANT is always quiet when he enters or exits the apartment, but she can be quiet too. he is sleeping on the couch. she slides her arms into the backpack straps, laces her boots. she is out of the door, it's like she never existed in the room. her mattress has an imprint of her body still. she leaves a piece of paper (folded) on the table. for GRANT because he deserves that at least. the night air cools her down. the city seems unimpressed with her. she gets on a bus and doesn't look back.

\---

_GRANT_

_I'M LEAVING. I HAVE ALREADY LEFT. IT DIDN'T WORK. CLOSURE YOU SAID BUT IT DIDN'T FEEL GOOD. IT WASN'T RIGHT EITHER. THANKS FOR TRYING. FUCK YOU. DON'T FOLLOW ME._

(she didn't sign it)

\---

the towns blur together. she sleeps in a new motel every night. ugly curtains hide her from the world, she can't stop looking over her shoulder. (she changes her face often) she heads east towards the sea, and every now and then kara takes her face back, sits on a bench or gets a cup of coffee. she finds a bracelet abandoned on the street and slips it round her wrist. the red plastic beads shine, she rubs a finger over them, and it almost feels good.

she buys a phone and texts GRANT. ("all is well - kara") he texts back immediately and a lot after that. what he had for dinner or where he is or complaints about the people he works with. she doesn't respond. sometimes at night he calls her, leaves long voicemails. his words are slurred and huge and sad. she deletes them without really listening. she starts sending him photos of bugs and buildings and the patterned fabric of bus seats. it's another way to interact despite the ugliness of their circumstances.

pigeons are everywhere. kara makes it a habit to always have some breadcrumbs in a pocket to throw at them. america is huge and wild, and if she is smart about it and packs enough provisions, she can travel for days without running into civilisation, just birds and hidden roads. cities are nice though, all the people stacked together in boxes, never silent. kara is a tiny drop in the ocean of humanity there, and it's true, even if the poetic nature of such thoughts makes her nauseous. 

(she isn't settling)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading - this is kinda part of a series???
> 
> (constructive criticism is welcome)


End file.
